


A Farm Tale

by Prince_of_Elsinore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Anthropomorphic, M/M, anthropoidal rights, pseudo-bestiality, pseudo-zoophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_of_Elsinore/pseuds/Prince_of_Elsinore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I remember the first time I laid eyes on you. You were sitting alone in the corner of that pen, and it was love at first sight. You looked at me, with those big blue eyes, and I saw your loneliness. I knew you wanted to come home with me. I knew you were the one."</p><p>Ludwig is just another animal on the farm. But something develops between him and Gilbert that neither expected.<br/>[DISCONTINUED]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Farm Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I wrote for lilien passe's and germanbrother's tumblr event Germanfest. So far it's only part one because, surprise surprise, it got longer than I expected. It is based on an unfinished fill from the kink meme and a couple comic strips posted there. You can find that here: hetalia-kink.livejournal20236.html?thread=78159628#t78159628
> 
> Warnings: anthropomorphized character, pseudo-bestiality/zoophilia, sexual content, and language.
> 
> Disclaimer: Hetalia is Himaruya's, and the material I took inspiration from belongs to its respective creators, but this story is mine.

_—I remember the first time I laid eyes on you. You were sitting alone in the corner of that pen, and it was love at first sight. You looked at me, with those big blue eyes, and I saw your loneliness. I knew you wanted to come home with me. I knew you were the one._

_—I remember. You were lonely too._

_—Yeah. But not anymore. Not after that._

…

This is the story of an unlikely love, and an unlikely hero.

…

Ludwig could clearly remember the moment he realized why Gilbert kept him. His purpose, his sole value.

He’d seen the coins change hands, seen the man walk away with the cheerily clinking bottles of milk. His milk.

He’d seen Gilbert counting the money (though Ludwig did not yet understand what money was) in his hand, smiling, and pocketing it. He’d come over to give Ludwig a pat on the head with a “Good boy,” before running back up the hill to the Big House, calling to his father that he’d sold two quarts.

Ludwig had noticed the glint of silver on the hard-packed dirt floor, and had reached through the bars of the pen gate towards it. It must have fallen from Gilbert’s pocket when he crouched down. It took a few tries, fumbling the small object with his index and middle fingers.

He’d examined it for a long while, wondering what exactly it meant. Gilbert seemed to like it. It was shiny and pretty; maybe that was why. But whatever it was, he’d received it in return for the milk he’d collected from Ludwig that morning. This stuff, this shiny metal stuff, was why Gilbert milked him. Was why Gilbert kept him.

Gilbert didn’t love him. He loved these hard flat round things.

The realization struck him like a blow, and Ludwig had moped the rest of the day. Old Vater didn’t help either; the crotchety bull had chastised Ludwig from the next pen over, deriding his naïve belief that Gilbert might have wanted him around for any other reason.

But Ludwig had kept the coin. He slipped it into the hay on which he laid his head to sleep at night, thinking he would surprise Gilbert with his find tomorrow. Gilbert would be happy then, happy with him.

Maybe then he would love him.

His plan had worked, to an extent; when Gilbert came the next morning to milk him he looked downtrodden. Ludwig could tell he was sulking and had butted his head against his hand questioningly.

Gilbert had sighed and explained how he’d lost a coin from his sale yesterday, and now his father was blaming him for counting incorrectly and giving their customer the milk for too cheap.

Ludwig’s eyes had lit up at that. He’d gone over to the haystack and rummaged till he found the coin, which he brought back to Gilbert proudly.

Gilbert had exclaimed and praised him, told him how smart he was, and hugged him—that was the best, the hug—around the neck. Ludwig’s face grew pink from the compliments, but he didn’t mind at all. He liked seeing Gilbert happy, especially if he was happy with him.

But Ludwig continued to watch the transactions occur on a regular basis. His fears that Gilbert cared nothing for him personally had subsided, however, as time went on and Gilbert continued to come to groom him, feed him, play with him, or simply to sit and talk to him, no matter how much of his milk he sold. Even when Ludwig was a little dry, Gilbert might express disapproval, but he still snuck him sugar cubes, still obliged to scratch his itches when Ludwig looked at him with pleading eyes. That trick always worked.

So Ludwig came to accept that that was just a part of who he was, of what he was. The humans kept him for his milk. But maybe, some part of Gilbert actually liked him for something more. Maybe he only milked Ludwig at his parents’ behest. Maybe, if it were up to the boy, he would keep Ludwig just for the company.

He could hope.

…

Gilbert could clearly remember the moment he realized Ludwig was not like his other friends, could never be.

“Why can’t Ludwig use his thumbs, Pa? His hands grow funny?”

His father had cornered the timid young calf and seized his hand to show Gilbert. “Nah, see here? That’s the scar from the surgery he had as a newborn. To sever the tendon. All Poidals get it, unless they’re damn ferals.”

“What’s… sever?”

“Means to cut.”

“What’s a ten-din?”

“Well it’s what makes your fingers move. Got ’em all over you body though, not just for your fingers.”

“Didn’t it hurt when they cut it?”

“’Magine so. But he probably don’t even remember it. They do it right away, soon as the newborn’s cleaned up.”

“Well why’d they have to make his thumbs stop working?”

“’Cause he’s an animal, son. Animals can’t go ’round with useable thumbs. Just think about it—he’d be able to unlatch this here gate and walk away just like that. How’d we keep him locked up if he got thumbs?”

“Oh. I guess.”

His father had continued to demonstrate how to care for the calf. Ludwig was to be Gilbert’s responsibility—he had to learn how to groom him, and what to feed him, and when, so he’d grow big and strong and start producing milk in a couple of years. Eventually, he’d even be able to mate with the girl cows (Gilbert wasn’t really sure what that meant), and then there would be new calves to sell.

Gilbert had noticed the way Ludwig’s big blue eyes watched him and never left him. But the cow remained silent.

“Pa, can he talk?”

“Well… not yet, he can’t. Most adult Poidals can at least a little though. Depends how much time they spend ’round humans. Unfortunately it can’t be helped—but it’s not to be encouraged. ’Course you need ’em to understand some commands, but no more than that. They’re slow by nature anyway. Ain’t no reason to talk to a dumb cow.”

Gilbert was disappointed at that. Since his parents had purchased Ludwig he’d often come over to his pen and just talked to him, hoping the calf with the bright, intelligent eyes might talk back. He’d had fun playing chase with him out in the pasture too. Gilbert didn’t have many friends to play chase with. The boys in the town mostly made fun of him for his oddly pale colororing.

His heart sank. He’d thought maybe if he had Ludwig, he wouldn’t need those boys to like him. He wished Ludwig were human.

“Remember son, an animal’s an animal. That goes for Poidals too. Don’t let the face fool you—he may look human, but inside’s just as empty as a common cow.” His father rapped his knuckles on the top of Ludwig’s blond head, between the tiny nubs of horns, and the calf cringed back.

“Now you take good care of him though, you hear? He cost us a good bit, but he’ll prove a good investment with proper care.”

Gilbert nodded. “I promise. I’ll take good care of him.”

…

_Eight Years Later_

“Ludwiiiiig! Chow time! Come and get it while it’s fresh!” Gilbert banged on the pail of feed as he stood at the edge of the pasture.

He could see Ludwig lying on the bank of the stream at the base of the hill, sunning himself, tail swishing lazily to shoo away the flies.

“C’mon ya big lunk!” he called down to him.

Ludwig flicked his ears and didn’t stir. Gilbert knew he was only pretending not to hear.

“Don’t make me come down there and get you,” he warned.

Still no response.

“Stubborn cow,” muttered Gilbert under his breath, setting down the pail and hopping the gate, where the electric fencing was easiest to avoid.

“Alright, I’m coming! And you better be up on your hooves by the time I get to you!”

Gilbert marched down the pasture. When he was only a few yards away from Ludwig he warned, “Last chance buddy.”

But Ludwig merely turned his head to look lazily up at his master.

Gilbert came to a stop right next to him and frowned. “You’ve got a real attitude problem, you know that?”

Ludwig merely snorted and raised an eyebrow.

Gilbert sighed. “Yeah, I know I can only use empty threats so many times, but c’mon, it’s feed time! Don’t you wanna eat?”

Ludwig snorted again and turned his head away.

Gilbert plopped down next to him. “What is this, huh? You punishing me? You being all resentful? Look, I told you, with Pa away Ma needs me to help out more. He’ll be back in a couple days and then I promise, I’ll spend more time with you again.”

Another snort.

“Sulker. I spoil you too much, you know that?” Gilbert caught sight of a heifer standing at the crest of the hill, looking their way. He nudged Ludwig. “Hey what about Hilda? Look’s like she’s got her eye on you. She’s a good-lookin’ gal, isn’t she? Aren’t you gonna give us any calves this year? You know Pa thought you should’ve started mating two years ago already.”

Ludwig grunted in disgust and shot Gilbert a glare.

“What is it with you? Don’t you like any of the girls?”

The young bull lowered his eyes, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“What, you embarrassed? You got a lady-friend finally?”

Ludwig swatted at the boy’s leg in irritation.

“Okay okay, I’m done teasin’ ya buddy. But try to think about the girls every once in a while, ’kay? You don’t wanna be made a steer, do ya?”

Ludwig looked up, alarmed.

“I’m just sayin’,” shrugged Gilbert defensively. “I wouldn’t want that for ya either—a man’s jewels are sacred, right? But my Pa might have some other ideas.”

Ludwig frowned and looked away.

“C’mon boy, feedin’ time,” said Gilbert, pushing himself to his feet.

Ludwig got up slowly, but didn’t follow as Gilbert turned to head back up the hill.

Gilbert looked back. “C’mon already, slowpoke.”

Ludwig stamped on the ground, snorting lightly with a petulant expression.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “What is it this time, boy?”

Ludwig turned and pranced a few paces away, looking at his master expectantly.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, then glanced around. “Okay fine, just for a few minutes, then into the barn, you promise?”

Ludwig snorted in affirmation, a triumphant glint in his eye.

“So then… you better run!” And with that Gilbert sprang forward, taking off after him, but Ludwig was already well ahead, racing alongside the creek and bellowing happily.

“I’m gonna get you! Kesesese,” cackled Gilbert, even though he knew full well that he’d never once managed to catch the spry bull in all their years of playing chase.

Ludwig sprang easily to a rock in the middle of the creek and bounded to other bank, putting more distance between himself and Gilbert.

The boy made to follow, leaping for the large rock Ludwig had used as a stepping-stone. He made the distance, but just as his muscles were tightening in anticipation of the next jump he felt his footing slip on the slippery smooth surface, and before he knew what was happening he was down.

Ice. Icy cold water was all Gilbert knew for a moment. The creek was relatively shallow, but he was so shocked by the temperature of the fresh spring water he couldn’t tell which way was up.

He thought he could hear a muffled voice call his name. He looked around frantically, grasping at reeds and sand. He could see bubbles escaping from his lips.

And then there was a pair of strong arms around him, and a rush in his ears, and suddenly he could breath, in great choking gasps.

“Gilbert!”

His name again. Who’s voice was that?

He felt solid ground under his back and found himself squinting up into the bright sky as he took heaving gulps of air.

Ludwig’s face appeared above him. The bull’s round eyes were full of concern as he gazed down at his master, hair dripping into the boy’s face.

“Gilbert.”

Gilbert blinked. The shock of the cold must have disoriented him more than he thought. He could have sworn he’d seen Ludwig’s lips move.

“Gilbert?”

Okay. That time there was no denying it. Ludwig’s lips had moved.

He had spoken.

Gilbert coughed and sat up, staring at the bull. “You—” he wheezed and coughed again, “you— _talked_!”

Ludwig merely blushed, mouth set in a firm line as he continued to stare intensely at the boy.

“You spoke! Ludwig, you—you said my _name_!”

Ludwig looked down in embarrassment.

“When— How—” Gilbert stuttered.

Ludwig frowned at his master and butted his shoulder lightly with his head, looking at him with concerned yes.

“Oh c’mon, uh-uh, talk to me. You can talk now! Use your words!”

But Ludwig merely rolled his eyes and, apparently satisfied that Gilbert was alright, started to walk away.

Gilbert scrambled up. “Okay okay, I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk! Not now, at least. We’ll take it slow—just a few words at a time, right? Nice and easy. No pressure.”

Ludwig continued to saunter up the hill.

“Hey, hey—” Gilbert caught up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ludwig stiffened.

“I’m sorry. If I… offended you, or something. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just, exciting, you know?”

Ludwig snorted.

Gilbert sighed. “But—forget that for now. Lud. Thanks. Thanks for… helping me out back there.” _Saving me_ sounded a bit dramatic for Gilbert’s taste—he was sure he could have taken care of himself anyway. But still he added, “You’re a good friend.”

Gilbert smiled sheepishly when Ludwig finally met his gaze, but the bull quickly blushed and looked away.

Gilbert was amused; he knew Ludwig loved to be praised, especially by him, but he was always so cutely shy about it. The blush on his cheeks was adorable.

Quite suddenly, Ludwig turned to the boy and brought his face very close. Gilbert was frozen in shock at the sudden abnormal proximity, and couldn’t react as Ludwig touched his nose to his very gently, before drawing back just as quickly.

Gilbert blinked, feeling oddly warm. A nervous laugh escaped his lips. “What was that boy, you getting all sentimental on me now? Kesese!”

Ludwig made an annoyed growl in his throat before continuing his way up the hill, the shade of his cheeks deepening.

Gilbert knew he’d embarrassed him. He felt ashamed of his playful teasing all of a sudden. But what else could he have done? How was he supposed to react to something like that? What did it even mean?

Not that he didn’t like it, exactly. Ludwig had been expressing his relief that his master was alright, he reasoned. There was nothing wrong with that. It was just… so very odd. He couldn’t remember Ludwig doing something quite like that ever before. His face, so close—

Gilbert swallowed, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

But by the time he’d made sure Ludwig was fed and sat down to his own supper with his parents, the strange gesture was practically forgotten.

…

“Mornin’ Lud!” Gilbert called cheerily, bustling into Ludwig’s pen with the milking equipment.

Ludwig merely raised his sleepy eyes in acknowledgement.

“Not talking today either, huh?” grumbled Gilbert.

It had been three days since Ludwig had first spoken Gilbert’s name, and the bull had yet to repeat the feat. Gilbert was beginning to wonder if he’d imagined it all in the first place.

Ludwig snorted lightly and reluctantly got into position to be milked. Gilbert attached the pumps to his nipples and patted Ludwig’s head for his cooperation. Sometimes when Ludwig was in a sour mood he’d bellow in exaggerated discomfort, but even though he’d seemed somewhat sulky the last couple of days he didn’t complain this time. Instead he leaned slightly into Gilbert’s hand, sniffing it in interest.

“Haha, you smell something, huh? Just hang on a sec, be a good boy till the pail is full.” He scratched Ludwig’s head again and the bull closed his eyes in contentment, looking up disappointedly when the hand pulled away.

Gilbert was silent for a while, simply sitting on the stool and watching Ludwig munch fresh hay lazily out of his trough.

Ludwig had always been bright. Gilbert had been speaking to him since he was a calf, and it was a long time since he had started taking it for granted that Ludwig understood just about everything he said.

He wished he’d speak again. He wondered how he could get him to talk. But he could be so stubborn. Gilbert thought how awesome his classmates would think he was if he could only convince them his cow could talk. They hadn’t believed him when he’d shared the news the other day.

Ludwig grunted at him and Gilbert snapped to, seeing that the pumps were running dry. “Oh, sorry boy. Hey, thanks, that’s a good pail-full there!”

Gilbert moved the pail aside and detached the tubing, then started the customary rubdown. He massaged his chest and his nipples to dispel the ache from the suction of the pumps, then lightly massaged his genitals in a soothing action, as his father had taught him, causing Ludwig to sigh deeply.

As soon as Gilbert was done Ludwig was sniffing at his pockets insistently.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, fishing the sugar cubes he’d stolen from the kitchen out of his pocket.

“Here ya go.” He held them out and immediately felt Ludwig’s rough tongue on his palm as he lapped them up.

When Ludwig had finished he laid his head in Gilbert’s palm, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Sorry Lud, that’s all I got! Ma’ll catch me if I sneak too much.”

Ludwig pouted, but Gilbert just gave him a quick pat on the head. 

“I’ll see you in a little bit, ’kay Lud? Be good!” And with that he closed the gate behind him and left.

Ludwig plopped down by the gate, watching his master’s retreating back as the last of the sugar dissolved in his mouth.

A snort from the next stall over caught his attention.

“Still pining after that human?” came Vater’s gravelly voice from the shadows in the corner of the barn.

Ludwig scowled. It was only the two of them in this barn, as the girls were kept separate, but even though Ludwig sometimes got lonely he preferred it when Vater kept his mouth shut. He rarely had anything nice to say.

“Pathetic,” the old bull snorted. “You know to him your just another animal. Good for milk and money and nothing more.”

“That’s not true,” Ludwig growled back.

“Ha! You’ll see. And now you’ve spoken in front of him too. I warned you. He sees it as just a gimmick. He’ll show you off like a carnival animal, and then, when he realizes how much you really know, he’ll despise you. He’ll feel threatened. Humans like us stupid and it’s in our best interests to play along.”

“Gilbert is different!”

“That’s what you think, but they’re all the same. You’ll see. And if you keep refusing to mate—saving yourself for that _boy_ —they won’t hesitate to sell you for meat! Especially if you get too smart for them. Just you wait. That’s where this’ll all end, mark my words.”

A chill went down Ludwig’s spine. “Gilbert wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let that happen.” But his voice was weaker even as he said it.

Vater snorted once more and was mercifully silent.

Ludwig curled up on his pile of straw, thinking of his master’s touch, his praise, the light in Gilbert’s eye when he was pleased with him. Ludwig wished he could see that more often. He drifted off to sleep, resolved that he would.

_He’ll love me, if I’m just good enough._

…

“So, where’s this cow of yours that’s so great?” teased Liz, the class tomboy, as she skipped a rock across the pond in Gilbert’s back yard.

On his mother’s insistence, Gilbert had invited her, her friend Feliks, and Roderich, the prissy son of the wealthiest landowner in the county who for some reason was always following Liz around these days, over after school.

“Yes, I don’t understand what can be so wonderful about dirty, smelly animals,” sniffed Roderich.

“But Roddy, this is a _magical_ cow. It can _talk_ , apparently,” drawled Feliks sarcastically.

Gilbert growled. “He’s not dirty and he’s not smelly. At least, not very. I wash him every week. And he can too talk, I heard him myself.”

“But Gilly,” sighed Liz in exasperation, using the nickname that made Gilbert’s blood boil, “you know he’s too young. Poidals don’t start talking till they’re adults. He’s still an adolescent, isn’t he?”

“Well yeah, but he’s really smart! You don’t know him,” shot Gilbert.

“Well then show us,” challenged Feliks. “I want to hear the cow talk.”

Gilbert glared. His heart was pounding, partially in anger, partially in nervousness. Ludwig still hadn’t spoken another word. But surely he could make him. Surely he’d do it for him, if he knew how important it was. And his irritation was fueling his confidence.

“Fine. No problem. Follow me,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, and started leading the small pack down to the barn.

“Puh, it does stink in here,” said Roderich in disgust as they entered. “I don’t know how you can live with it.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t all feel the need to perfume our asses after we take a shit, Rod,” snapped Gilbert, going over to Ludwig’s pen.

Roderich reddened as the others snickered, but followed them with reluctant interest.

Ludwig raised his head at the sound of his master’s voice and started to get up, but shrank back when he caught sight of the strangers.

“Hey Lud, come over here! I brought some friends to meet ya!” Gilbert grinned in encouragement, beckoning him closer.

Feliks tittered with nervous excitement. “I’ve never seen a Poidal this up-close before,” he whispered to Liz.

“What, really? Not even a dog?”

“No, you know my family only keeps common dogs. Someone up the road has a poidal dog, but I’ve only ever seen it from a distance. Oh my God, look at his tail! And furry legs and ears!”

Ludwig glanced nervously at them, but then slowly advanced, keeping his trusting eyes on Gilbert.

“There ya go, good boy!” Gilbert reached through the gate to scratch Ludwig’s head. “Ya wanna pet him?”

Liz and Feliks wordlessly gathered closer to the tall wire fencing, stretching out their hands, while Roderich stayed well back, wrinkling his nose.

Ludwig flinched slightly at the unfamiliar touches, but soon warmed into them, going as far as to sniff down around their pockets for treats.

Liz giggled. “I think he likes me!”

“How do you even milk a male?” came Roderich’s dubious voice from behind them. “I thought with common cows only the females gave milk.”

Gilbert turned to him with a superior smirk. “Because,” he drawled, enjoying a moment when he knew something his spoiled classmate didn’t, “poidal bulls have been genetically modified to produce milk and be more productive to society. The hormones that do it also make them naturally more tame and docile,” he said proudly, repeating word-for-word what his father had told him.

Roderich grumbled.

“So,” said Feliks, quickly hiding the eager look on his face, “are we going to get to hear him talk or something?”

“Yeah, of course,” replied Gilbert, suddenly feeling far from confident. “Go on, Ludwig, say something.”

Ludwig looked up at him warily.

“Well go on then, I know you can. Show them!”

Mistrust clouded the bull’s eyes as he began to slowly back away.

Gilbert gripped the gate tighter. “Lud, come on now, my friends here don’t believe you can talk. Don’t you wanna show them how smart you are?”

Ludwig looked positively startled at that, and quickly retreated to the corner, hunching down with his back turned.

Gilbert stood there, stunned.

Roderich smirked. “Oh yes, very fascinating Gilbert. Your cow is clearly a paragon of intelligence. No doubt a stimulating companion for conversation.”

Gilbert spun around. “He can talk! I heard him myself! And he is smart, just—you’re making him nervous!”

Feliks sighed, apparently bored already. “Let’s go back to my house Liz. Nothing to do here. I knew he was bluffing from the start,” he lied.

Liz trudged out after the others, throwing a disappointed “See you Monday, Gil,” over her shoulder as she went.

Gilbert stood staring after them in enraged humiliation for a long moment. Then he swung open Ludwig’s gate and stormed into the pen.

“Ludwig! Why’d you do that?” he yelled at the prone bull’s back. “Why didn’t you say something? You could’ve! You could’ve shown them!”

Ludwig shot a glare over his shoulder that surprised Gilbert with its intensity.

It only angered him more. “What’d you do it for, huh? You wanna see me humiliated? Don’t you care? Don’t you care about me at all?!”

“STOP!” Ludwig bellowed, springing to his hooves and staring Gilbert down.

Gilbert stumbled back, shocked at the sudden sound of the bull’s deep voice.

Suddenly, pulled up to his full height and with his pointy horns adding another two inches, Ludwig cut an imposing figure.

“Stop!” he repeated emphatically.

Anger bubbled up in Gilbert’s stomach, overcoming his astonishment. “Why couldn’t you have said that, even that one word, just one minute ago?!”

Ludwig snorted angrily. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, deciding whether to open his mouth again. Finally he burst out, “I’m not a—a carnival animal!”

Gilbert blinked. His mouth fell slightly open. He’d had no idea Ludwig could put whole sentences together.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up from the surprise. “A… a carnival animal? What the hell, Lud? You think that’s how I think of you? Is that how I treat you?” he shouted, infuriated by the accusation.

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. “You were. Just then.”

Gilbert’s face contorted with rage. He couldn’t believe that when his bull finally decided to talk, _this_ was what he had to say. That _this_ was what he thought of all Gilbert had done for him over the years, what he thought of their friendship.

“Well maybe you are just a stupid cow,” he spat. “After all I’ve done—taking care of you—this is how you thank me? Couldn’t come up with one little word out of that thick head of yours when I needed it most? Yeah, some friend you are. I was an idiot to think I could be friends with a cow. That’s all you are—a stupid, ungrateful _cow_.”

Gilbert was almost taken aback by the venom in his own voice, but the roaring fury in his ears drowned all else out. It numbed him. He saw the hurt on Ludwig’s face, the look of betrayal, but he didn’t feel it. Didn’t feel anything but scorn for the bull in that moment. He puffed himself up, ready for a fight.

But all Ludwig did was shrink back into the corner, staring at him with those terrible, piercing blue eyes. Accusing. Heartbroken.

Gilbert couldn’t stand it. He turned on his heel with a snarl and stormed out, slamming the gate behind him.

He went straight up to the house and to his room, locking himself in and flinging himself down on his bed, face buried in a pillow.

He had thought that Ludwig was his friend. Ludwig didn’t judge him, didn’t tease him, was always happy to play with him, to listen to him.

_Ha, probably because he couldn’t talk back_ , he thought derisively. Maybe that was why it had always worked so well between them. Because Ludwig didn’t talk.

How ironic. Gilbert had always wished Ludwig could speak. He had always made sure to spend plenty of time talking to the bull in the hopes he would pick up the habit more quickly, but apparently that had backfired.

The anger surged up in Gilbert’s belly once more at the injustice of Ludwig’s accusations. All Gilbert ever thought about was what was good for Ludwig.

What a fool he’d been.

…

“Gilbert? Time to feed the animals!” called his mother from the other side of the door.

Gilbert reluctantly rose from where he was still curled on the bed. “Yeah, be there in a sec.” He suppressed a groan. He would have to face Ludwig again.

He took his time with the chickens, sprinkling seed here and there among the squawking birds. It wasn’t until his mother yelled out to the chicken coop from the kitchen window to quit dawdling and feed his bull.

His bull. Gilbert sighed and headed down the hill, feed pail in hand, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. He didn’t want to see Ludwig. The anger had subsided somewhat, only to be replaced by hurt.

It just wasn’t like Ludwig. Was it? Did he even really know Ludwig after all?

Gilbert was just outside the barn when a sound from within stopped him short. Something vocal, but not quite articulated. He stayed still to listen, not revealing himself just yet.

There it was again. It sounded like—a sob. Crying. Eerily human crying.

An icy hand gripped Gilbert’s heart. That was Ludwig. He’d never heard him cry before. Hell, he didn’t know cows could cry.

But if he was crying, did that mean… Gilbert recalled the look of shocked hurt on the bull’s face when he had thrown those vicious insults at him.

Maybe, he had gone a bit too far. If Ludwig was crying, it meant some small part of him, at least, did care. Maybe he even regretted his words to Gilbert; maybe he’d realized how wrong it was of him to say those things, and he wished he could take them back.

His heart inflated with a sense of beneficence, Gilbert entered the barn, ready to forgive Ludwig of everything if it would only mean things could go back to how things were.

He found the bull curled up where he’d left him, shoulders shuddering with his sobs. The sight made Gilbert’s chest go tight.

Ludwig didn’t notice the human until Gilbert cleared his throat slightly, at which he jumped and scrambled into a sitting position, though he kept his eyes on the ground.

“Hey, Lud.”

Ludwig didn’t move.

Slowly, Gilbert entered the pen, and set the pail down. He crouched to Ludwig’s level.

“I… said some harsh stuff back there. But you should know… I didn’t mean it. I was just, upset, and you were—well, I guess you were probably jealous of my friends, huh? Wanted to keep you talkin’ between you and me?”

Ludwig looked at his master with cautious hope. He had been jealous, to think Gilbert only wanted him to talk so he could show off to friends. He had thought Gilbert would want him to talk for that in itself—so they could converse, share more. He’d just been timid and embarrassed to say anything recently, worrying Gilbert might think him stupid if he expressed his thoughts. Or worse, that he’d discover the depth of Ludwig’s affection for him.

And he had been jealous to see Gilbert’s other friends, jealous that they could do and say as they pleased with him, jealous of their _sameness_.

It struck Gilbert how stupid this was. He didn’t even like Roderich and Feliks, and Liz had been a drag ever since she started hanging out with them more. He smiled slightly. “Don’t worry boy, you’re still my number one. You’re a better friend than they’ll ever be.”

Ludwig’s wide blue eyes lit up at that, and before Gilbert knew what was happening the bull leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Gilbert’s shoulders.

Gilbert blinked. It was an awkward position, and having Ludwig so close felt… odd. “Uh, Lud, what are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you. It’s… an expression of fondness, isn’t it?” he inquired in his deep voice. When he spoke there was a sense of hesitation, of carefully weighing each word.

Gilbert was bemused. He still wasn’t used to hearing his bull talk, and certainly not to feeling him so physically close in a human embrace. “Um, yeah, but… animals don’t hug humans.”

Ludwig pulled back, brow furrowed in confusion. “But I want to.”

Gilbert bit his lip. “Lud, don’t… don’t let others hear you talk like that.”

Ludwig’s frown deepened. “Do you not want me to?”

Gilbert looked away from the bull’s intense stare. It was almost unnerving. “N-no, it’s not that…”

Ludwig leaned back in. “Then you want me to?”

Gilbert backed up quickly, rising to his feet. His face was too hot. “It’s just—there are people out there, like Pa and others, with very, uh, strict ideas about an animal’s place, how they should behave,” he stammered.

Ludwig rose cautiously up to his hooves, but didn’t stand to his full height. “What do you think?”

Gilbert’s heart was racing. He was terribly, terribly uncomfortable and confused at this turn of events. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

“I think you’re asking too many questions, and it’s not your place!” he shouted, trying to cover how flustered he was. If he just put his foot down now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this later.

Ludwig’s shoulders drooped. The disappointment was clear in his eyes. “So you’re like those people you’re talking about.” He snorted.

Gilbert’s embarrassment flashed to rage in an instant. He’d come here expecting an apology, and now this. He’d been an idiot to be so sympathetic to Ludwig’s crying; the bull hadn’t repented at all. Ludwig really didn’t see the difference between Gilbert and humans like his father. There wasn’t an ounce of gratitude in his brawny body.

“I am not! But I am your master, and you’re to listen to me!” His hands clenched into fists.

Ludwig backed down, but glared defiantly. “So what are you going to do?”

Gilbert had never been more furious at Ludwig—at anyone—in his life. The deep sense of betrayal was a red-hot iron through his gut. Without thinking, he grabbed his father’s bullwhip off the wall behind him.

“I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it!”

For a split second, he stood staring down at Ludwig, heart racing. He had never held his father’s whip before, and it felt foreign and awkward hanging from his hand to the ground.

He quickly raised his arm, and barely had time to register the shift from disbelief to true fear in Ludwig’s eyes before he brought it down with a resounding _crack_.

The bull bellowed in pain, and didn’t stop before the next _crack_ rang out. Ludwig tried to crawl away, but Gilbert was frenzied, bringing the whip down again, and again. If he’d been calmer and aimed properly he could have done much more damage, but as it was Ludwig writhed at the searing sting of the whip biting into his skin, making more noise than Gilbert had ever heard a cow make.

Gilbert began to raise his arm again, when suddenly he felt overcome with exhaustion and the leather bullwhip was so very heavy. His eyes lingered on the thin red lines of blood that had blossomed up on Ludwig’s back.

His whole body went numb and cold. The whip handle fell from senseless fingers, and it took Gilbert a moment to remember how to breathe as the deafening roar—was it Ludwig’s cries or his own wrath?—cleared from his ears.

And then he _ran_.

He sprinted out of the barn and up the hill so fast that his lungs ached and his stomach felt sick and cramped by the time he reached the pond in the back yard. He headed straight for the bushes on the far side, where he would be hidden from the view of the house, and doubled over, heaving. He fell on all fours and vomited twice, convulsing violently.

He was trembling, shaking so bad his arms couldn’t support him. They buckled and he fell to the side, rolling onto his back and staring at the gray sky as he struggled to catch his breath.

Lying there, filling his lungs with gulps of air, he was suddenly too reminded of his situation only days ago, after Ludwig had pulled him from the stream.

A broken sob escaped his lips.

_It was right, it was the right thing to do, had to teach him a lesson, I was right to do it_ , he repeated to himself, over and over and over. As though repetition could make it true.

_It was right. I was right._

…

Gilbert didn’t go to feed Ludwig after that. He bargained with his mother to take over his duties with Ludwig for an indefinite period, and in exchange he got dish duty and kitchen cleanup.

Gilbert hating working in the kitchen, but it was worth it. Anything not to have to face Ludwig.

His mother must have noticed the marks on Ludwig’s back when she went to milk him, but she didn’t say anything. Gilbert was grateful for that. His mother knew when to keep tactfully silent. She knew how much Ludwig meant to Gilbert, and was sympathetic to the fact that Gilbert would want a break from him if something had come between them. She possessed a certain sensitivity towards these things that his father lacked.

Over the next several days, as Gilbert spent more time indoors, more time with himself and his thoughts, he realized how just alone he was without Ludwig. He really was his only friend.

The bull’s words racked through his mind constantly.

_So you’re like those people you’re talking about._

Gilbert refused to believe it at first. He’d dedicated so much time and care, so much of his life, to Ludwig. He chose his company over that of his often cruel classmates. Ludwig had always been his playmate, even his confidant, as strange as it sounded. But Ludwig had been safe; he would never make fun of Gilbert, never spill his secrets, was always just happy to have a companion, as Gilbert was.

But what kind of friendship was that, if only Gilbert could share his secrets, if only Gilbert could complain of his problems, if Gilbert was always talking, directing, and Ludwig always listening, obeying? Sure, Gilbert could read the bull’s mood and often indulged his whims, but… Gilbert thought about what it would be like if Ludwig were human.

He probably would have left him long ago. He would be frustrated at the amount of control Gilbert held over him, that every aspect of his life was dictated by him. He would never tolerate the imbalance.

Gilbert knew it was probably ridiculous to think that way—after all, Ludwig _wasn’t_ human, and that was just it—he was a Poidal, a cow; they weren’t supposed to be on equal footing, and as such their relationship was completely normal.

And yet it wasn’t. Gilbert’s father often complained that he spent too much time around “that damned cow,” but he’d long since given up trying to get his son to make more suitable friends. Gilbert’s relationship with Ludwig was, in many ways, the one he relied on the most, the one he sought comfort in, the one he put the most energy into. He didn’t know anyone else who had such a close relationship with a Poidal.

So no, their relationship wasn’t normal. And that was what troubled him. If he relied so much on Ludwig, if Ludwig was more important to him that any human friend, what did it mean that he still treated him as an animal, took it for granted that he held such power over him?

Normal friends got into arguments, sure. But normal friends didn’t viciously beat one another. If they did, at the least they could get in terrible trouble, at the worst they could go to jail or juvenile. Because they didn’t have the right to beat someone like that.

But Gilbert did. He had the right to beat Ludwig—his friend—without fear of punishment. If Ludwig was truly misbehaving, Gilbert’s actions might even be lauded. Gilbert hadn’t told his father what he’d done, but he had the feeling that if he did, if his father knew Ludwig had been speaking, knew what he’d _said_ , he would probably clap him on the back with a “well done son” and go off to give Ludwig another lashing for good measure.

And that was what made him sick with guilt. That was what kept him up at night when he couldn’t get Ludwig’s pained bellows and terrified eyes out of his head.

He cried himself to sleep every night for a week. 

Gilbert became distracted in his daily activities. He couldn’t concentrate on chores or in class. He was sluggish and tired, and kept on replaying memories of him and Ludwig over and over in his head, kept wondering what conversations they might have, or might have had, if he had never beat him. What would Ludwig say? What went on in his head?

What did he really think of Gilbert?

And Gilbert asked himself whether Ludwig had been right. If he really was just like those other people, like his father, like Roderich, like everyone he’d ever heard express contempt towards Poidals before.

Gilbert wondered why that had never bothered him more. If someone insulted Ludwig directly, he would get angry, of course. But why did he tolerate jokes about Poidals’ stupidity, their filthiness, their helplessness? He’d always simply thought of Ludwig as an exception, but looking back it made him angry. What if Ludwig hadn’t been so lucky as to have Gilbert for his master? He wouldn’t be able to help it if his master didn’t talk to him and he never learned to speak. He wouldn’t be able to help it if he wasn’t kept clean. He wouldn’t be able to help that he couldn’t help himself, that he was trapped.

But he would still be Ludwig. His Ludwig.

The unfairness of it all made Gilbert tear up in frustration. He didn’t know what to do.

And Ludwig’s last question stuck to the inside of his skull like chewing gum to a shoe: _What do you think?_

Gilbert didn’t know what to think. Not anymore. He’d always accepted what his father taught him about Poidals, their value to humans, the benefits of keeping them and, importantly, keeping them obedient. But he’d thought he could afford to be kinder than his father. He thought he could be both master and friend.

But he’d been wrong. Coming up against that reality, he’d lashed out, desperate to cling to the position he’d always held, the one he was _supposed_ to hold: Ludwig’s master.

But Gilbert knew, when he confronted the bull again, something would have to change. If he wanted to stay the master, he couldn’t be his friend.

But that wasn’t an option. Riding the bus home alone from school, watching his classmates gather into their cliques in the halls, he knew that without Ludwig, he’d have no one. He’d be nothing. Not special to anyone.

He needed Ludwig as a friend.

So he couldn’t be his master, not anymore.

…

Even once Gilbert had reached this conclusion he couldn’t bring himself to face Ludwig again. Guilt still ate at him, and worse yet, fear that Ludwig would not take him back. And Gilbert wouldn’t blame him, if the bull never wanted Gilbert to touch him again after what he’d done.

He felt terribly, terribly alone. Not only physically, not only without Ludwig’s company, but alone in the world. He’d never heard anyone talk about the things he was thinking, nor ask the questions he was asking himself. He wondered if anyone else had ever felt this way, so confused about a Poidal, of all things.

One day, when Gilbert was home alone, he decided to try to find out. He got on the family computer, which he was usually only allowed on to do homework.

He started searching.

He tried “Poidals and humans,” “Poidal and human friends,” and got only articles on the history of Poidal domestication, the assets of Poidal productivity to society, the health benefits of keeping a poidal dog or cat as a pet.

But then something caught his attention. At the bottom of one article, it read, “In recent years self-titled Anthro-rights groups (using the preferred term ‘Anthro’ from ‘Anthropoidal’ rather than the purportedly derogatory term ‘Poidal’) have risen in prominence and have met with some success in effecting state and federal laws regarding the use of Poidals in industrial, agricultural, and domestic settings. Such groups often state ‘the exploitation of Anthro persons for solely human benefit’ as among their grievances. More can be read about recent actions staged by these groups through the links below.”

Gilbert’s heart sped up slightly as he clicked the first link. He’d never heard the term “Anthro” before, and he certainly hadn’t heard of “Anthro-rights” or people who advocated them.

The link took him to an article describing a sit-in the year before at a slaughterhouse that processed poidal beef.

Gilbert’s stomach squirmed. He’d never given it much thought before—his family kept dairy and breeding cows, not meat cows—but on the occasions he’d been to the fancier grocery store in town, he’d noticed poidal meats in the refrigerated section. There wasn’t much selection and it was expensive; it was a delicacy after all. Gilbert had never eaten it before, and suddenly he was immensely glad of that fact. Those packages could have had Ludwig’s meat in them. They were from Poidals—Anthros—who might be just like Ludwig.

He learned that the sit-in had resulted in several arrests, but had shut down the factory for several days, and was part of a larger, ultimately successful campaign to outlaw poidal meat factories in that state. 

Apparently only 14 states still allowed the slaughter of Poidals for meat, including Gilbert’s own, though only two had outlawed the sale of poidal meat.

Gilbert tried another link: the homepage for an Anthro-rights organization, which listed various demands for the living conditions and legal recognition of Anthros, whom they referred to as “Anthro persons.” They referred to the practice of thumb-cutting as “mutilation” and called it a “gross and inhumane violation of personhood.” Gilbert was surprised to find that the group even opposed free-range Anthro farms, like his parents’ own, claiming something about “violating bodily autonomy” and an “exploitative mode of production” that Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure he understood.

This page had a link labeled “Inhumane treatment in Anthro meat factories—WARNING: GRAPHIC.” Gilbert clicked it.

A video opened on the new page with a voice-over narrator.

“This video was taken by an undercover investigator posing as an industry inspector with the aim of exposing the inhumane and often illegal practices commonplace in the Anthro meat industry.

“Today she is visiting an Anthro beef slaughterhouse. Here you see the narrow, S-shaped corrals leading from the pens to the killing zone. They are designed to tunnel the victims in a controlled manner and keep them calm and unaware of their surroundings. The gate opens for the Anthro at the front of the line and closes behind it; instinctively, she walks forward, and is enticed by the feed trough to place her head into the metal vice, which quickly closes, trapping the victim, who is then stunned with a mechanized captive bolt pistol, which often causes massive brain damage.”

Gilbert jumped as the vice snapped suddenly shut around the Anthro’s head in the video. She gave a short, alarmed bellow before a metal rod came forward to meet her forehead. With a loud _clunk_ from the metal rod the Anthro suddenly slumped forward and twitched slightly.

“This process was once carried out manually by factory workers, but became increasingly mechanized throughout the 1930s. This was not only to increase the efficiency of the process, but also for the benefit of the workers, who were allegedly disturbed by the humanlike features of their victims. This is also the reason for the full removal of the head and hands before any human workers come into contact with the Anthro’s corpse.

“An unfortunate consequence of this mechanization is that it is far less accurate than the work of human individuals. If the placement of the head in the vice is not exact, the Anthro will not be successfully stunned. It is against industry regulations for a conscious Anthro to be slaughtered, but this is often overlooked. As you are about to see, a fully conscious Anthro will be strung up and go to their death entirely aware of what is happening to them.”

Gilbert watched, wide-eyed and feeling vaguely ill, as the next Anthro’s head got caught wrong in the vice. The stunner missed his forehead and hit his cheek, creating a large, ugly gash. He bellowed loudly, and Gilbert was reminded with a shudder of Ludwig’s sounds of pain.

The Anthro was dumped to the side by the shifting track on which he stood, and was forced into a prone position by more moving parts. Fastenings clasped around his ankles and lifted him, upside-down and thrashing, into the air.

“The most unfortunate victims are neither fully stunned nor correctly strung up by the legs. If an Anthro is lifted by the neck instead, they will be slowly and agonizingly strangled; worse yet, if they are lifted by the arms, they may receive painful lacerations on the legs from the machines meant to slit the neck. The victim will then surely drown or be boiled to death in the scalding water that removes the hair from the body.”

Gilbert was frozen in horror as the struggling Anthro approached a narrow opening with a whirring blade. He was still bellowing as he reached the device, and suddenly blood was spurting everywhere. He only fell silent when the blade was halfway through his neck.

Gilbert realized his jaw had dropped open and quickly closed it, swallowing hard. He was completely tense, gripping the arms of the chair. The vague nausea in the pit of his stomach only grew more defined and intense as he watched blood pouring from open necks, then saw the naked, bright pink bodies of the Anthros emerge from vats of frothing, steaming water. Except for differences of sex, they all looked about the same at that point, like ugly rag dolls without the fur on their haunches or hair on their heads.

He had to press a hand to his mouth as more blades roughly hacked off the head and hands of the corpses. After that they reached the platforms where workers stood with electric blades, which, Gilbert soon learned, they used to “aid the removal of the skin, initially loosened in the boiling process.”

He thought he might be sick as he watched the skins being pulled off the bodies like tight shirts. He’d had no idea it could be so easy for skin to slide off of muscle like that, as if it were melting into the piles of flesh below. There was blood, maybe half an inch, covering the floor.

Next were people with what looked like large chain saws suspended in front of them, which they maneuvered to slice open the headless bodies length-wise.

Gilbert lost it when he saw the yellow and purple intestines and organs bulging out of the skinned torsos and slithering into bins below. He really was sick then, and had to grab the trashcan from under the desk to catch his lunch.

He stopped the video with shaking hands. He couldn’t watch any more. He kept on thinking _that could be Ludwig, that could be Ludwig_ , and the idea of one of those unidentifiable, skinless, headless, gutted corpses being Ludwig, his Ludwig, nearly made him be sick again.

He quickly erased his browser history, shut down the computer, and cleaned his sick from the trashcan.

His mother made hamburger that night, and even though it was from common cow Gilbert had no appetite whatsoever. He still had cleanup duty too, and had to fight down bile as he cleaned raw meat from the mixing bowl.

That night he was plagued by visions of Ludwig, wide eyed and unaware, placidly going through the S-corrals, trustingly stepping through the gate: the sound he would make when the vice snapped around his head, the last look of terror in his eyes before the pistol put him down. Or worse, if he were strung up awake, like that one Anthro; what would he think of in his last moments? He would know he was going to die. Would he say something, call out for help? Would he cry out Gilbert’s name?

Gilbert didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the wetness on his pillow.

He had to talk to Ludwig. He had to try.

…

“Gilbert, why don’t you go see Ludwig today, hm? I think he’s stressed. He’s been dry as the Sahara the past couple days. I don’t think he’s eating right.”

Gilbert’s mother looked at him with concerned eyes over the breakfast table.

Gilbert glanced up, then back down at his cereal. “Oh, yeah, I’ll… go see him.”

“That would be good, sweetie,” smiled his mother as she stood to clear the table.

Gilbert was doing the dishes when his father came in the back door.

“Gilbert, put down those dishes. I need your help. I’m taking a trip to the landfill.”

Gilbert’s heart skipped a beat. The landfill meant one thing. But it couldn’t be Ludwig. It couldn’t.

His father must have caught the uncertain look on his face, because a moment later he said, “It’s old Vater. Kicked the bucket last night. Damn bull, coulda sold ’im to the chopper if I’da known it was getting that bad.”

Gilbert suppressed a shiver. Even if he’d never liked Vater that much—the cranky bull had bitten him once when he was younger for pulling on his tail, and he’d been wary of him ever since—he couldn’t shake the awful image of a familiar face caught up in that deadly machinery.

“Need your help loadin’ him in the truck.”

Gilbert nodded silently and followed his father down towards the barn.

Nagging worry and perhaps the slightest bit of morbid curiosity were burning in him. Finally he had to ask. “Pa, are there factories around here that take Poidals?”

“Ya mean to slaughter? Sure, there’s one just over the county line, a bit east of here. I think it’s the last in the state though. They’ve been shuttin’ them down one by one. It’ll be a damn bit harder if this one goes too. Selling over state lines is a real pain in the you-know-what.”

Gilbert’s palms were suddenly sweaty. “But—why would you need to sell any cows? We don’t raise them for beef.”

His father blinked at him in mild surprise. “Well, sure, but if one goes lame, or is getting too old to be of any use—I’d been thinkin’ of selling Vater for a while, but I thought he might just give us a one more calf—seems I was wrong. But don’t you remember that old sow we sold though, couple years back? Don’t know why you’re actin’ like you never heard of selling to the slaughterhouse before.”

“Oh—no, right—I remember,” mumbled Gilbert. He had forgotten, in fact, because it hadn’t struck him as especially odd or cruel at the time.

He gnawed his lip and remained quiet after that.

Once in the barn Gilbert risked a glance at Ludwig’s pen. The young bull was huddled up in the corner, apparently still asleep.

Gilbert looked away quickly.

He helped his father shift the heavy corpse of the dead bull into a large wheelbarrow, then guided it out to the truck as his father pushed. Once they’d managed to get old Vater into the bed of the truck his father put a tarp over the body.

“Alright, I’m off. Do your chores, I’ll be back in a couple hours.” His father hopped into the driver’s seat and trundled down the dirt drive to the road.

Gilbert watched him go, taking the old bull with him. He couldn’t help but think that would be Ludwig one day.

Ludwig. Well, there was no time like the present. Gilbert went to get the bull his morning meal and tiptoed cautiously to his pen.

The bullwhip still hung in its customary place on the wall. Gilbert suddenly felt horrible that Ludwig had to see it there every day, a constant reminder.

He swallowed, and went through the gate.

“…Ludwig?” he asked, in barely more than a whisper.

There was no answer. Perhaps he was still asleep. Gilbert was loath to wake him, but he stepped gingerly forward. 

“Lud, you awake boy?”

The huddled figure on the hay shifted slightly. Then, in a very quiet voice, “He’s dead, isn’t he.”

Gilbert stilled. He waited a moment, unsure if that was all the bull had to say. “Um, yeah. He passed last night. Pa’s taking him to the fill now. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll get you a new friend soon so you won’t have to be all alone in here.” He hoped his voice sounded friendly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Gilbert blinked. “Huh? Why not?”

Ludwig shifted again, but still didn’t look at the boy. “Said mean things to me,” he mumbled, so quietly Gilbert had to strain to hear.

“What—what kind of things?” Gilbert asked, his voice lowering automatically.

Finally Ludwig sat up, lifting his head to look at Gilbert with dull, tired eyes. “What does it matter.”

It wasn’t a challenge; there was no defiance in his voice. Only defeat. Acceptance, conviction, that it really didn’t matter.

The inquisitive spark of his keen eyes was gone, and Gilbert could tell it wasn’t just morning grogginess.

Ludwig settled himself in front of the trough, but all the energy and strength seemed sapped from his body. Gilbert was sure Ludwig looked thinner, much too thin in fact.

Head down and shoulders drooping, the bull murmured, “I’m sorry I displeased you, Master.”

Tears brimmed up unbidden in Gilbert’s eyes. He couldn’t stand it, seeing Ludwig like this. It was so much worse than if he’d found him hostile and full of righteous outrage.

“N-no—” he croaked. “Don’t—don’t call me that.”

Ludwig tensed a moment, then his shoulders and head slumped down even further. “If… you don’t want to be, anymore.”

With horror Gilbert realized what it sounded like he was saying. “No, that’s not what I meant! I meant—I can’t be your master, because I want to be your friend! Ludwig, you—you don’t need a master!”

Ludwig gave at him with a wary, frightened look, almost as though he was worried Gilbert was going mad.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“I mean—I don’t want to control you any more. I don’t want to say what you can or can’t do—I don’t want to _whip_ you…” Gilbert broke down at the last part, voice cracking and starting to sob as he sank to his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry oh God I’ll never do it again, I promise, I’ll never hurt you God Ludwig I’m so sorry…”

Gilbert clamped his arms over his stomach, rocking back and forth as he gazed at Ludwig pleadingly through his tears.

The bull looked positively alarmed. He watched, uncertain, as Gilbert cried messily for a few moments. Tentatively, he asked, “If you’re not my master… does that mean you’re not going to take care of me anymore?”

Gilbert choked on his tears. “No! No, of course—I’ll always take care of you, I promise!”

Ludwig frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Gilbert fixed Ludwig with a desperate stare. How could he not see, see how wrong it all was? How could Gilbert explain?

“You— I was— I was wrong, Lud. I was wrong to beat you. I know that now and I’m so sorry and I’d give anything to take it back. You—of course you can ask questions. Of course you can _hug_ me, God I was so stupid…” He ran a hand down his face. “Can you ever forgive me?” he whispered to the straw floor.

He didn’t hear an answer. His heart sank. _It’s what I deserve, isn’t it_.

But then he felt something nudge his arm and looked up to see Ludwig nuzzling him, his big blue eyes full of questioning concern.

Gilbert sighed in frustration and pulled away. “Aren’t you angry at me? Come on, get angry! You have every right to be!”

Ludwig blinked at him, bewildered. “But, I thought you wanted me to forgive you…”

“Well, yeah, but… Don’t you get it? Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I’m _sorry_. Do you understand why I was _wrong_?”

Ludwig bit his lip, eyes still timid. Then he spoke hesitantly, “Because…” He snorted in frustration and scratched his ear. “But I upset you.”

Gilbert sighed again. “Ludwig… you only upset me because I didn’t have the answers to the questions you were asking. I’d never thought about those things before. But I have now. I’ve been thinking about them a lot recently, actually. And I… Look. We’ve been friends a long time, right?”

Ludwig nodded shyly.

“But… all this time… we haven’t… I’ve had so much control over you. Do this, don’t do that. And I don’t want it any more. Because it’s not right for me to beat my best friend just because he asked a question I couldn’t answer. I… I don’t know. It’s confusing… But I do know this: You’re not going anywhere, so don’t worry about that. I’m not giving you up. I’m still gonna take care of you the same as always. But, at least when it’s just the two of us, you can—talk, do whatever, hug me if that’s what you want, ask any questions. And I won’t get angry, I promise. I just… I don’t know how it’s gonna work out. But I want us to be friends again, okay? But better than before. I… need you, Lud.”

When he looked up at the bull there was a small, triumphant grin on Ludwig’s face.

Gilbert blinked in surprise, reddening. “What are you smilin’ so cheeky at?”

“I knew it. I knew Vater was wrong.”

Gilbert’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Wrong about what?”

Ludwig shuffled forward and sat right in front of the boy, placing his hands on Gilbert’s shoulders. “You are different from the others. He said you would hate me. But you don’t, do you?”

Though the smile on his lips was slight, there was such a radiance in the way Ludwig looked at him that Gilbert had to turn aside, blushing.

“Of course I don’t hate you,” he mumbled, embarrassed. The urge suddenly overcame him to give the bull a proper hug, so he brought his arms up around his sturdy torso and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Ludwig gave a grunt of surprise, then quickly returned the hug.

“Things are gonna be different from now on, okay?” Gilbert’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “I just… want you to be happy.”

“I am,” said Ludwig quickly.

Somehow, it made Gilbert both glad and sad to hear that. He simply squeezed his friend tighter.

Eventually they pulled apart, and Gilbert, trying to save face from what he considered a terribly girly show of emotions, cleared his throat and muttered something about going to grab the milk machine.

Ludwig obediently got into position by his feeding trough. Gilbert returned and poured him his food, then attached the pumps to his nipples and let the machine run. He sat back and watched the bull munch happily away. He still looked thin and somewhat haggard, but the life had returned to his eyes. This was the Ludwig he knew.

Ludwig turned to him suddenly and asked, “What’s at the fill?”

Gilbert blinked. “Huh?”

“Where Vater’s going.”

“…Oh. Um, well it’s where… where people take their garbage,” said Gilbert, cringing inwardly. But there was no other way he could think to put it.

Ludwig’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Do humans go there too?”

“You mean—when they’re dead? Uh, no. No, people usually… get buried. Or cremated. That means you burn the remains,” he explained hastily at Ludwig’s confused look.

“Oh.” Then, after a long pause, “Why?”

Gilbert shrugged. “Beats me.”

Ludwig munched at his grains thoughtfully. “Will you take me to the fill?”

“What?! Don’t talk like that, you’re not dyin’ any time soon!”

“But would you?”

Gilbert swallowed. It was what they always did with an animal, common or poidal—Anthro, when it died. But suddenly it seemed so crass. He didn’t want to take Ludwig’s body to rot on a heap of trash somewhere out in the open. Actually he didn’t want to think about Ludwig dead at all. It brought back memories of that awful video.

“N-no… I would want to… bury you, I guess. Somewhere I could visit the grave… Maybe in the garden.

Ludwig gave him a curious look. “I’m not allowed in the garden.”

Gilbert had to laugh at that. “No, I guess not… Well, I don’t want to think about it anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because,” started Gilbert, as if it were obvious, “I don’t want to think about you dying. You’ve got a long life ahead of you buddy.”

“Hm. …I guess Vater won’t have a grave for you to visit.”

“Uh… no. I guess not. But he and I were never really close,” joked Gilbert half-heartedly. Suddenly he felt bad about even that cranky old bull meeting his anonymous fate amid piles of garbage.

Ludwig continued to eat, and soon the pumps were running dry.

The milk pail was a little less full than usual, but Gilbert still petted the bull’s head and praised him, then detached the tubes.

Ludwig hummed in contentment as Gilbert rubbed him down, chest, stomach, genitals, then back up to pinch at his nipples and make sure they were really dry.

Ludwig squirmed uncomfortably at that.

“I know boy, sorry,” soothed Gilbert. He reached down to give Ludwig’s testicles one more soothing rub, but retracted his hand quickly, face burning.

Ludwig was very much hard and erect.

Gilbert quickly tried to calm himself. _Don’t be ridiculous, not like you’ve never seen an animal—an, Anthro… with a hard-on. Nothing to get embarrassed about. It’s perfectly natural._

But was it? Ludwig had never gotten hard from this routine before; they did it day in and day out without problem. Was something weird going on with his hormones?

“Uh…” Gilbert laughed nervously, backing up. “Sorry ’bout that…” He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. If anything.

Ludwig glanced back at him, blushing like mad. “Sorry,” he muttered, and the poor bull looked mortified beyond belief.

“No, no! It’s okay!” Gilbert rushed to assure him. “Nothing to worry about. Perfectly… natural.”

He stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should just pick up the milk and leave Ludwig to… deal with his problem.

_God, does Ludwig masturbate? Do P—Anthros… do that?_ He’d seen a common bull rubbing its penis against its belly once, but the idea of Ludwig doing something like that just seemed very… odd.

Ludwig was looking at him with a mix of embarrassment and pleading desperation, his hips squirming slightly in discomfort.

Gilbert swallowed. “Uh… do you… um, need some, help? With that?”

Ludwig ducked his head down bashfully. “Can you, make it stop?”

Gilbert reddened. “Y-yeah, um, it just… I need to…” How to explain? “Uh, Lud, this ever happen to you before?”

The bull made a strangled noise. “A few times…”

“And… what did you do about it?”

“I tried to… make it feel better. But nothing worked. I just waited for it to stop.”

“Ah. Okay. Well. I’m going to show you… what you can do, to make… that go away, okay?”

Ludwig nodded sheepishly and Gilbert knelt down next to him, trying to convince himself this wasn’t totally weird.

He suddenly remembered his father once saying something about needing a semen sample from Vater for testing of some sort, so his father must have had to do something similar then. _Yeah, it’s just like scientific sperm collection. People do that to bulls all the time!_

With renewed confidence he reached under Ludwig’s stomach and gingerly grasped the stiff member in his hand. It felt foreign and odd. It was a bit thinner and longer than most human penises he’d seen, but otherwise quite similar in outward appearance. And yet, simply touching this heated, soft, hairless skin on Ludwig’s body was something altogether different.

Ludwig shifted slightly and gave a low moan as Gilbert started to pump him, slowly. Gilbert found himself hoping that this was pleasurable for Ludwig, as embarrassing as his position was; he didn’t want to traumatize or mortify the bull any further. He gave consideration to the pace and pressure of his hand accordingly, trying to read Ludwig’s responses to tell what he liked best. When Ludwig gave a particularly keening bellow his chest filled with pride and satisfaction, yet also tightened with emotions less easily identified.

It was clear Ludwig was getting close. Gilbert could feel the insistent throbbing of his length in his palm, see the tensing and rippling of his muscles under fur and skin. Suddenly Gilbert realized he too was tense, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he watched the bull near his climax.

It was terribly confusing, how busy his skin felt, how tied up in knots his gut was, how—exhilarating, this felt. Like an adrenaline rush.

Suddenly Ludwig’s whole body tightened and he gave a low groan as Gilbert felt his seed spill into his palm. It was warm and wet, which shouldn’t have been surprising, but somehow it caught Gilbert off guard as the liquid slid down his fingers.

Gilbert stared at his sticky palm, unsure what to do. Ludwig turned around towards him, flushed and panting, and stuck his face out towards Gilbert’s open hand to sniff it.

Gilbert froze in shock when he felt Ludwig’s warm, rough tongue lap at his palm. He wanted to pull back in disgust, tell him not to do that, but he was… captivated. How had he never noticed how much the bull’s tongue tickled his skin, how it made him tingle and shiver? And the way he licked up the milky liquid, going between his fingers to get every last drop, like it was some delicious treat…

Gilbert swallowed hard, and uncomfortable pressure building in his groin. “U-uh Lud, why are you… doing that?” he questioned uneasily.

Ludwig looked up as he finished and said blankly, “It’s salty.”

“…O-oh. Okay.” Gilbert nodded distractedly and stood, in a daze. He picked up the pail of milk and made to leave.

“Um…” He paused at the gate, turning back to the bull for a moment. “Right. See you later Ludwig.” He hesitated, wondering if he was forgetting something, mouth opening as if to say more. But no thoughts presented themselves. He shut his mouth with a snap and nodded curtly, and quickly shuffled out of the pen and out of the barn with two unsettling blue eyes on his back.

Back in the house Gilbert hurried to the bathroom to wash his hands thoroughly, then splash his face, willing the beginnings of a boner to go away.

_What’s wrong with you, sicko?! Don’t get hard to stuff like that! And he’s a_ boy _anyway!_

He took a few deep breaths.

_It doesn’t mean anything. Probably completely normal. I mean, he’s got human-like features, so I was just reacting to that. Not him as a whole._

But he still wasn’t sure why jacking off a guy would have that effect. True, he’d never really liked girls that much—there was the slight crush he’d harbored for Liz in the past, but he’d grown out of it quickly and she was hardly very feminine anyway—but he’d never had a crush on a guy either. Maybe he’d caught himself admiring Roderich’s slim fingers once, but he hated the brat on a whole so it didn’t count.

He _couldn’t_ be gay.

And he most certainly couldn’t be attracted to Ludwig.

_It was probably just the embarrassment. Maybe I’m into humiliation and stuff. That gets people off sometimes, right?_

No matter how he tried to explain it away, though, the feeling of confused discomfort remained firmly lodged in his gut for the rest of the day.

…

Gilbert was apprehensive when he went to milk Ludwig the next morning. He couldn’t decide what to do. Should he just give Ludwig the rubdown, but skip on fondling him? Or should he proceed like normal, pretending nothing odd had happened? There was no guarantee Ludwig would react so strongly again. It had probably just been a fluke.

Both he and Ludwig were awkwardly silent as the milk machine did its work. Gilbert could feel his heart speed up when the pumps stopped, and wondered if Ludwig felt any of the same anticipation. His hands smoothed up to his chest, down to his stomach, hesitated. At the last minute he darted his fingers down to give just two quick tugs to the thankfully limp member before pulling back quickly.

Gilbert was already at the gate when he heard a slight grunt behind him. He turned, face already burning for some idiotic reason.

Ludwig was staring at him with shy, questioning eyes. “You didn’t… do it like you usually do,” the bull stated flatly.

“Oh, um…” Gilbert could feel his palms growing sweaty and set the pail down. “Right, erm. Well, to be honest I didn’t want to… give you any discomfort. Like last time,” he mumbled, blushing furiously.

Ludwig looked down for a moment, then said, so quietly Gilbert had to lean in, “But I wasn’t uncomfortable. When you did that. I liked it. Your ma never even touched me there, when she came to milk me. I missed it.”

Ludwig risked a glance back up at the boy, just daring to hope.

“And you don’t think you can… you know, manage it yourself? Since I showed you?” Gilbert asked, his voice growing embarrassingly high-pitched. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Ludwig shook his head. “I can’t hold it like you do, my hands don’t work the same.”

A pang went though Gilbert’s chest at that. He stood on the brink of indecision. _I shouldn’t do this. Just walk away, tell him it’s not proper, not for humans and anim—Anthros._

But he couldn’t do that. Not after what had happened last time he tried to tell Ludwig what creatures like him were and weren’t allowed to do. If Ludwig wanted it… And, if Gilbert were being perfectly honest with himself, a small part of him grew excited at the thought of bringing Ludwig to pleasure again.

He nodded swiftly, and before he could think better of his actions, knelt down beside the bull and reached under him. Ludwig wasn’t erect yet, so his penis was tucked away in its thick sheath and covered with fur. Gilbert gently rubbed the sack of flesh that hung between the bulls legs, noting how warm and soft it was, and eventually succeeded in coaxing the pink shaft to appear out of the dark fur.

Gilbert repeated his actions from the previous day, challenging himself to do an even better job, to make Ludwig squirm and grunt with even more want and satisfaction. This time, he spilled into his hand with a twitch and a sharp bellow, and the expression Gilbert caught on his face as he threw his head back sent a thrill straight between his legs. That didn’t help the pressure building up in his gut at all, and Gilbert had to exercise true restraint as the bull licked up his own seed with something akin to relish.

Each flick and stroke of Ludwig’s tongue sent another pulse of heat straight to Gilbert’s groin, making him wince.

“Are you alright?” asked Ludwig in blank surprise when he looked up and caught the pained grimace on the boy’s face.

“Y-yeah,” responded Gilbert shakily, wiping his hand quickly on his jeans. He gave a weak smile and stood. “Of course. See you later Lud, right?”

And with that he made a quick escape, exercising just enough control not to spill the milk he carried.

…

The hand job quickly became routine procedure. On the third day Gilbert didn’t even bother to ask before starting to rub the bull’s groin with purpose, and the sigh Ludwig let out, the look of serene bliss on his face as he relaxed into the touches told Gilbert how grateful he was.

They didn’t speak about it. It was just something that they did, in addition to the feeding, the milking, the romping in the pasture.

They also didn’t speak about the secrecy of it. There was no need. Both of them knew, instinctually, that there would be trouble if anyone, especially Pa, knew what they were doing. But they didn’t talk about why, or what that meant.

They didn’t talk about what those few minutes out of the day meant to them, how they looked forward to it, how they burned with impatience just thinking about it. How warm they felt afterwards, and yet how inevitably disappointed and full of yearning they both were when Gilbert had to leave to attend to other chores or go to school.

They didn’t talk about what it meant when Gilbert pressed his free hand into the small of Ludwig’s back, rubbed his shoulders, and combed through his hair with whispers of encouragement and praise; nor did they discuss it when one day Ludwig insisted on turning around, seated, so that he and Gilbert could face each other and Ludwig could put his arms around the boy as he brought him to pleasure.

And Gilbert certainly didn’t tell Ludwig when, more than once, their short encounter left him hot and flustered enough that he had to seek swift refuge in his bathroom to deal with his own problem, with images of Ludwig, flushed and sweating, emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

They both felt, changed.

Everything in Ludwig’s life had always revolved around Gilbert, the one he worshipped and wanted to please so badly it made him ashamed to think it. But he felt a new elation, and a new, distinctly different and specific sort of longing every time he laid eyes on the boy now. A new sense of urgency and purpose, a sense of direction, of building up to something, that Ludwig had never known before.

For the first time, he started to think about the future. He had questions about Gilbert’s plans, if they were going to stay like this forever, or if Gilbert would take him away and start a new farm with him. But uncertainty breeds fear, and Ludwig was too scared to ask any of these things, to ask if Gilbert felt as strongly as he did, if he really would stay with him and always take care of him, as he promised, or if he might go away to one of those big cities Ludwig had heard about (though he was unsure how to imagine them—perhaps they were something like overcrowded farms).

Gilbert was struggling with his own uncertainties. Ludwig had always been a central fixture, even a highlight, of his life. But the feelings that filled him whenever he looked at the bull now were new. Desperation clawed its way through his chest; he felt desperate for everything. Desperate for Ludwig’s happiness, desperate to be with him, desperate to touch him in shameful ways. Desperate for some knowledge of what would happen to them; how they might be able, against all odds, to keep this up.

Doubt also plagued his thoughts. Though Ludwig always seemed so happy and eager when Gilbert touched him intimately, he had to wonder if any of this was in the least bit normal. Did any other humans do such things with Anthros? Was there something… wrong, with him? Was what they did wrong? Gilbert thought he knew the answer to that, or at least the answer that most people would give. And yet he had to wonder why it had to be wrong, why he felt so furtive and guilty whenever he was around anyone other than Ludwig.

He’d scoured the websites of various Anthro-rights groups for any information on human relationships with Anthros, but found nothing. He learned a great deal about other current issues though. There was good chance a bill might be proposed in Congress about recognizing the most basic Anthro rights and making their slaughter illegal. There was a court case a few states over about a man who’d shot a number of Anthro sheep on his neighbor’s farm; the argument was over whether to simply charge him for property damage or for manslaughter.

Gilbert also paid more attention to the news on the radio and TV. He learned that there had been a demonstration at the meat factory in the next county his father had mentioned, though it was still running. There was occasional mention of other actions and legal battles on Anthro issues too, and Gilbert had to wonder if the news had always covered these stories and he’d simply been oblivious, or if things were really heating up just now, when he decided to pay attention.

The more Gilbert read about the history of Anthros the more confused he became. What all these activist groups said was very different from anything he’d learned from his parents or teachers. The websites insisted that the subjugation of Anthros was not natural, that it had been a violent and oppressive process fueled by religious fanaticism in the Middle Ages. Gilbert had learned in his history class, though, that Anthro domestication—they’d called it Poidal domestication of course—was one of the developments that helped humanity lift itself out of the Dark Ages and led to the prosperity of the Renaissance. But the activists cited the numerous appearances of significant Anthros in ancient mythology and literature as evidence of their intelligence when left to fulfill their potential, unfettered by human domination. Gilbert didn’t understand how so many generations of humans could possibly be so wrong about Anthros, and yet he found himself sympathizing more and more with pro-Anthro views, thinking that everything he was seeing in Ludwig matched up.

Ludwig seemed more human to him every day. Gilbert knew that, in reality, there were certain animal aspects of Ludwig’s nature that he would always retain; it was who he was. But the bull constantly surprised him. He was still reticent, and yet when he did open his mouth Gilbert was often stunned by the thoughtful observations that came out.

One day, Gilbert brought a book from class with him out to the pasture so he could sit and read while Ludwig grazed. He had never done that before, but he wanted to be close to Ludwig, even if they weren’t doing anything together.

He’d become so absorbed in his reading that he hadn’t noticed Ludwig approaching until the bull sat down right next to him.

“Oh, hey there,” he said in surprise.

Ludwig simply stared at the book in his hands, a look of consternation on his face. “What. Is that.” He sounded curious, but also frustrated to see an object he didn’t recognize.

Gilbert blinked. “This?” He held up the book. “You’ve never seen a book before?” He was shocked, but as he thought about it he supposed he shouldn’t be. When would Ludwig have seen a book, between the pasture and the barn that comprised his world?

“Book…” repeated Ludwig, mulling it over. “Sounds familiar.” He craned his neck to get a better look at the pages. “Those symbols mean something to you?” he asked with a mix of disbelief and awe.

“Yeah. They’re letters. They… represent sounds, so they spell out words.”

Ludwig stared intently at the book for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, quite suddenly, “Teach me.”

It was a demand, not a request. Gilbert was caught off guard, but after a moment of sitting flabbergasted with his mouth open he shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

Gilbert had his doubts at first, about whether he’d really be able to teach Ludwig to read. He’d never heard of an Anthro doing anything like that, not even in his recent online explorations. What if there was some difference in brain structure that prevented Anthros from being able to make sense of symbols like humans? He didn’t want Ludwig to be disappointed.

He soon realized, however, that his fears were unfounded. Ludwig was frustrated with his slow progress at first, and unforgiving of his own mistakes. They would sit together in the pasture and Ludwig would snort his impatience as he struggled to sound out words. Gilbert tried to tell him to go easy on himself, to no avail.

But then Ludwig convinced Gilbert to leave a book with him, hidden under the straw in his pen, so he could practice. The next day, when Gilbert returned from school and went to check up on him, he found Ludwig with a triumphant smirk on his face.

“I finished it.”

“Finished what?”

“The book.” He rummaged through a pile of hay, pulled out the book grasped between his palms, and held it up proudly.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. “The whole thing?” he asked somewhat dubiously. It was one of the more basic books he could find in the house—a children’s edition of _Gulliver’s Travels_ that had been a favorite of his as a kid—but it was still a chapter book.

Ludwig nodded, and the look of self-satisfaction and excitement on his face was enough to make Gilbert grin widely.

From then on, Ludwig went through books so quickly that Gilbert had to sneak him a new one almost every other day.

Gilbert realized that Ludwig was starving for food for thought. He’d never heard him talk more animatedly than when describing his favorite part of the most recent book he’d read. He also started asking more questions; questions about the places and people he read about. It took some convincing to get him to accept that Lilliput was indeed made up by Jonathan Swift—“But how could he make it up? It sounded so real”—and that New York City did indeed have buildings that tall—“How do they stay up?”

Gilbert cut more and more time out of his day to spend with Ludwig, insisting to his parents that he was doing his homework in the pasture or barn (to which his father’s response was along the lines of “Well that’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Our son’s going batty,” though luckily his mother replied she didn’t see any harm in it). He told Ludwig everything he wanted to know, from what lay over the mountains on the horizon to how people looked and spoke on the other side of the world.

One day Gilbert thought to ask Ludwig how he’d started speaking. He had to wonder what it was that made Ludwig so different from any other Anthro he’d met—though he thought perhaps the others might prove similarly capable, if given the chance.

“Well… you talked to me. That helped. And Vater too. I didn’t always like when he talked, but he told me I should learn. But keep it secret.”

Gilbert’s eyebrows rose. “Really? He encouraged you to talk?”

Ludwig nodded. “He said we have to keep our minds sharp. He said we can’t trust humans.”

Gilbert winced. “Well. He had a point there.”

“But I can trust you,” said Ludwig quickly.

Gilbert gave a half-hearted smile. “Thanks bud. I’m trying to be trustworthy.”

Ludwig smiled at him, pinkening slightly. He looked down and bit his lip. “I… The first word I said was your name,” he mumbled. “I practiced it every day until Vater told me to shut up.” 

Gilbert had to burst out laughing at that. Ludwig looked up, alarmed and embarrassed. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no—sorry, I just… It’s kinda funny to think about Vater telling you to shut up because you were saying my name so much… but it’s really adorable too.” Gilbert tried to calm his mirth for the bull’s sake. “I’m happy that was your first word.”

“You are?” Ludwig looked into his face hopefully.

“Mm-hm.” He offered a contented smile back, and Ludwig nuzzled against his hand.

…

Gilbert began noticing and paying attention to things Ludwig did, little quirks or common behaviors, that he’d never given much thought to, wondering what they meant.

“Why do you hardly ever stand up straight in your pen?”

Kneeling as usual, Ludwig looked up, curious. “I don’t know. It just feels… natural. Vater warned me not to stand up taller than humans in closed spaces.”

“Oh.” Gilbert blinked, surprised. He thought a moment. “Well, if you want to… you can stand up if it’s just me around.”

Ludwig considered for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

Soon Ludwig was standing to greet him when Gilbert came to his pen. It took some getting used to on Gilbert’s part—looking up at Ludwig to talk to him felt odd, since the bull only ever reached his full height when out stretching his legs in the pasture.

Gilbert also took note of how much Ludwig seemed to dislike his weekly hose bath. It had never been Ludwig’s favorite routine and he would often bellow in complaint, but Gilbert had always written it off. After all, the bull needed to get clean somehow. But now that he thought about it, he wondered if there might not be more comfortable ways for Ludwig to bathe.

“Why do you hate your baths so much?”

Ludwig shuddered slightly. “It hurts. The water hits me. It’s hard. And then I get cold from the air.”

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”

…

Soon after, on a late spring day, the kind that promises summer just around the corner with the warmth of the breeze, Gilbert’s parents went away to visit relatives for a weekend. Gilbert had convinced them to leave him behind to look after the animals, rather than hire outside help.

The work was more tedious than difficult; feeding the chickens morning and evening, collecting the eggs, milking and feeding the female cows, letting them out to graze and rounding them up to come back in for the night. But it was worth it. Despite the extra chores, he could make time for just him and Ludwig, with no parents to worry about.

“Hey, Ludwig. I have a surprise for you.”

Ludwig looked up in curiosity as Gilbert opened the gate to his pen.

“Well come on, don’t just sit there!” said Gilbert, grinning by the open gate.

A confused frown crossed Ludwig’s features as he hesitantly rose to his feet and took a few cautious steps towards the gate.

“Are we… going to the pasture again? It’s late.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Something better. Something awesome.”

Ludwig’s ears pricked up in interest. Since coming to this farm years ago as a young calf, he’d never been anywhere other than the pasture and the barn, save the one time he’d escaped and been found munching on the cabbages in the garden. That had earned him quite a beating from Gilbert’s father, though.

“Come on!” Gilbert laughed in his eagerness.

Ludwig warily stepped out of the pen and Gilbert closed the gate behind him.

“Follow me,” said the boy, and led him out of the barn.

They traipsed up the hill towards the house. In Ludwig’s mind, it had always been the Big House—not that it was that large, but it seemed much grander than his own small barn and pen. Perhaps the name also came from what he associated the people who lived in it with. They were the ultimate authorities, the gods of his universe.

Ludwig thought at first Gilbert was leading him to the garden, and wondered if he would get to sample any of the tasty vegetables growing there. Or maybe to that nice pond, to splash around in the water.

But when they reached the back yard Gilbert skirted around the garden, leading him to the kitchen door.

“Are we going in the Big House?” Ludwig asked, incredulously.

Gilbert grinned. “Yup.” He opened the door and went inside, turning back to beckon to the bull. “Come on, don’t be afraid!”

Ludwig had never set foot in a human home. He didn’t know what to expect, apart from the strange little details he’d gleaned from some of the books he’d read. He placed an uncertain hoof on the step leading up to the door. Gilbert had to grasp his arm to help him mount the steps; Ludwig had never dealt with stairs before and they made him feel oddly off-balance.

Once Ludwig had made it inside he looked around the small kitchen in awe, wondering what on earth all the shiny appliances could be for. Some of them vaguely resembled various pieces of farm equipment he’d seen, but he couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of most of them.

But Gilbert didn’t let him stop to find out. “Come on, this way! But wipe your hooves on the mat first, so you don’t track dirt in.”

He led him down a little hallway past a room with a large table to a room filled with soft-looking furniture. Ludwig wanted to stop there, too, to find out how it would feel to lie on one of those wide chairs and to examine the pictures on the walls, but Gilbert took him by the hand and tugged him towards the stairs.

“I promise I’ll show you around later, okay? Just follow me for now!”

Ludwig clung to Gilbert as he made his way slowly up the steps, taking one at a time, tail twitching nervously. The wooden floors of the house felt oddly rigid under hooves that were used to grass, dirt, and straw.

When they finally reached the top Ludwig shuffled quickly away from the staircase, frightened by the possibility of falling such a long way down.

He found himself in another hallway, and Gilbert took him to a door midway down. Inside was what he assumed was a bathroom, from what little he’d gathered from pictures and descriptions in books. Against one wall was what looked like a wide water trough, filled with bubbles.

Gilbert grinned at him. “Well, get in.”

When Ludwig simply gave him a blank look Gilbert sighed. “It’s a bathtub. This is how you’re taking your bath this week. I promise, you’ll like it better than the hose.”

Ludwig drew closer in interest, bending down to touch the bubbles. They were softer than anything Ludwig had ever felt, like they were barely there. He smiled and scooped some into his hand, watching in amusement as they popped and dwindled down to liquid soap. He could feel the pleasant warmth of the water radiating up from the surface.

“Well, gonna get in?”

Ludwig nodded eagerly and let Gilbert help him step over the edge and into the bath. The bottom of the basin was slippery, but Gilbert guided him down until he was sitting, slightly shocked at the feel of such warm water all around him. He soon relaxed into it however, heaving a contented sigh.

Gilbert knelt beside the tub and began to scrub him. Ludwig hummed happily at the satisfying scrape of the brush against his skin. It was softer than the brush Gilbert normally used. Ludwig found he liked the feeling of his tail swishing through the water, but ended up splashing a great deal out of the tub and onto Gilbert. Ludwig tensed for a moment, a contrite expression on his face, but the boy merely laughed and splashed him back.

When Gilbert deemed Ludwig clean, he drained the water and refilled the tub, adding more bubble bath soap, much to Ludwig’s delight. He scooped up some of the bubbles and stuck his face into the pile of foam, then grumbled in annoyance when he realized he couldn’t open his eyes or mouth.

“Kesese, Lud, you silly,” chuckled Gilbert, wiping his face for him.

When Ludwig looked up he was surprised to see Gilbert was shirtless, and removing his pants. Ludwig watched, mesmerized, as Gilbert took off each article of clothing, apparently unconcerned by his nakedness.

Gilbert caught Ludwig staring and blushed. “What?” he asked defensively.

Ludwig blushed as well and forced his eyes up to Gilbert’s face. “I’ve never seen you without clothes.”

“Oh. Well, like what you see? Kesese,” laughed Gilbert jokingly.

Ludwig nodded fervently, making Gilbert blush even further. He hadn’t exactly expected such a frank and enthusiastic answer.

Gilbert paused for a moment. “Have you ever seen a human naked?”

Ludwig shook his head. “You don’t look as strange as I thought you would. At least on top.”

“Pfft. Don’t think I wanna know what you thought I’d look like.” He grinned and stepped into the water by Ludwig’s hooves.

“What are you doing?” asked Ludwig in surprise.

“I thought I’d take my bath with you!” He sat down into the bubbles and settled himself between the bull’s legs.

It was crowed with the two of them in the tub, but Gilbert didn’t mind the closeness at all. Ludwig didn’t seem to, either. He tentatively touched Gilbert’s knees, sticking up out of the water, and ran his hands down his legs, eyes wide with wonder.

“Weird…” he murmured.

Gilbert snickered and flung some bubbles at him, making Ludwig jump. He tried to scoop up an armful to dump on the boy, without much success. Gilbert held up a handful and blew the bubbles into Ludwig’s face, laughing as the bull shook his head and blinked.

Ludwig tried blowing on the bubbles too, and was thrilled with the result. Then Gilbert picked up a handful and dabbed it on Ludwig’s chin, much to the bull’s confusion.

“Kesese, you got a beard Luddy! Look!” Gilbert demonstrated the bubble beard on himself and Ludwig snorted with merriment.

They piled the bubbles on each other’s heads and bodies (Gilbert proudly demonstrated the bubble bikini and cracked up when he gave one to Ludwig) until the foam was mostly dissolved.

When Ludwig caught sight of Gilbert’s feet through the water he tried to pull them into his lap. Gilbert obligingly presented his foot, which Ludwig proceeded to examine with great interest.

“You have little fingers on your feet.”

“Kesese, they’re toes Lud, not fingers!”

“Hmm.”

Ludwig touched each one individually with gentle fingers. The tickling sensation made Gilbert shiver.

Gilbert’s chest filled with an odd feeling as he watched the bull, bent so intently over his toes. He wanted so badly to be close to him.

He drew his foot back and got on his knees so he could lean forward. Ludwig stiffened with surprise at the sudden movement, but didn’t draw back.

Suddenly Gilbert’s mouth felt dry. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, face inches from Ludwig’s.

The bull blinked, mystified. “Yes?”

It sounded like a question, but Gilbert took it as an answer, leaning in swiftly to touch his lips to the bull’s.

He pressed lightly against his mouth, feeling the softness of his lips. But Ludwig didn’t respond.

Gilbert drew back quickly, worry etched across his brow. “Was that not okay?”

Ludwig simply looked confused. “What was that?”

“A… kiss.”

Ludwig’s head tilted. “People do that in books sometimes, but…what does it mean?”

“Um, it means… I guess…” Gilbert swallowed hard. “Well, it shows… you like someone, a lot?”

Ludwig’s eyes lit up. The blue orbs widened, shining, followed quickly by a blush that went straight from the roots of his horns down to his neck.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “If you… like the other person too, you’re supposed to kiss back. Do you… wanna try again?”

Ludwig nodded shyly, still red in the face.

Gilbert leaned in and placed a tentative kiss on the bull’s lips. He could feel Ludwig pushing back, and his stomach swooped. He brought his hands up on either side of Ludwig’s head and pulled him further into the kiss, lips parting, encouraging Ludwig to do the same with his tongue.

Ludwig made a small startled noise at the feel of Gilbert’s tongue against his lips, but opened his mouth automatically. When Gilbert’s tongue poked inside Ludwig couldn’t help the slight groan that escaped him.

He got the hang of it rather quickly.

After a few short, breathless kisses, they started to draw them out more. Ludwig experimented with running his tongue along Gilbert’s lips, teeth. He liked the softness and warmth of the human’s mouth.

Ludwig’s tongue was considerably larger than a human one, and Gilbert soon found that that had both its advantages and disadvantages. The bull’s tongue would quickly fill his mouth, and he’d find himself sucking on the strong, rough muscle with soft noises of want. It was overwhelming and almost choked him when Ludwig became more zealous, but the coarse texture and forcefulness were doing all sorts of terrible, wonderful things to Gilbert’s knotted insides.

When they finally pulled apart Gilbert had to gasp for air. He was perversely pleased to see Ludwig’s eyes half-lidded and dazed, though he realized he probably looked in no better condition.

Ludwig’s hands had made their way to Gilbert’s back. The bull tried to pull him back in for another kiss, but Gilbert drew back reluctantly. His heart was fluttering; he felt much too hot. He needed to calm down.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, what say we get out and dry off before we wrinkle like prunes,” he suggested lightly, despite the fact that his fingertips were already shriveled past hope.

Ludwig tilted his head, but Gilbert just sighed and said, “It’s just—don’t worry about it. Figure of speech.”

He stood and stepped out of the bath, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist before helping Ludwig out as well.

Before Gilbert could tell him not to, Ludwig shook his haunches to dry his fur and sent water spraying in every direction. Gilbert cringed, but seeing the bull’s apologetic expression, he shrugged. “It’s just water, it’ll dry.”

He toweled Ludwig off, deep in thought. Kissing him had felt so… exhilarating. Perfect. Wild and wonderful.

But Ludwig wasn’t _human_. That, that wasn’t normal. No matter how good it felt, it didn’t make it okay. Despite the hand jobs he’d been giving Ludwig for a while now, he wasn’t sure what to think of the kiss. Somehow it felt that much more intimate. But did Ludwig even understand what it meant? Had Gilbert taken advantage of him?

He realized as he brought the towel up to Ludwig’s hair that his hands were trembling. He swallowed, trying to steady himself.

He could feel Ludwig’s eyes on him, searching, hopeful, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet them.

When he was done with the bull he began to dry himself. Suddenly he felt much more self conscious of his nudity, though. He could still feel that intent, keen gaze burning into his skin.

He jumped when he felt a touch on his arm and looked up into Ludwig’s inquisitive face. Gilbert blushed deeply when he realized exactly where that inquisitive look was directed.

“Yours isn’t covered,” observed Ludwig.

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, well, no, not like yours…”

He forced himself to stay still as Ludwig’s hand lowered towards his crotch. He let out a small, sharp gasp when he felt the touch of fingers, feather light, against his shaft.

“Doesn’t it get cold?” wondered Ludwig quietly.

“Well… I don’t usually go around naked.” His own voice sounded too high-pitched in his ears.

“Hm.” Ludwig’s hand remained, gently carding through tufts of pubic hair and tracing along Gilbert’s slender hip. 

The boy shivered. The warm, buzzing feeling was quickly returning to his skin. Standing here naked, so close, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the bull’s gleaming expanses of firm flesh, press their torsos together and feel his warmth, the ripple of his muscles just beneath the surface.

Gilbert swallowed thickly. It was terribly stuffy in the steamy bathroom. He was sure he was sweating.

“Let’s… let’s go to my room. Get some fresh air.”

Ludwig dropped his hand and nodded.

Gilbert led him down the hall to his door. Once inside he quickly grabbed his pajama pants and pulled them on, but didn’t bother with a t-shirt. As much as he didn’t want to be entirely naked, he wouldn’t mind if Ludwig wanted to touch his chest and stomach some more.

_Or other parts of me…_ he though somewhat guiltily.

Ludwig was looking around the modest room with great interest. “Is that where you sleep?” He gestured towards the bed.

Gilbert nodded. “Yup. Comfy, too.” He plopped down on the edge and patted the spot next to him. “Come try!”

Ludwig ambled over and clambered awkwardly onto the bed. He couldn’t sit on the edge in the position Gilbert was in, so he opted for kneeling on the mattress instead.

Ludwig glanced down uncertainly, testing the squishy surface with his weight.

Gilbert sat up cross-legged so he could turn to face him. “Kesese Lud, it’s okay, you’re not gonna fall or anything.”

Ludwig looked at him with trusting eyes and quit his fidgeting. “…Can I… hug you?” he asked shyly.

“I mean, yeah, if you want…” mumbled Gilbert, blushing.

Ludwig smiled and wrapped his arms around the boy. Gilbert leaned tentatively into the embrace, relishing the heat radiating off the bull’s skin. He jumped a little, but didn’t draw away, when Ludwig brought their faces close, touching their noses and foreheads together with a hum of contentment.

Gilbert could barely see his shining blue eyes at such a close range, but he could tell Ludwig was smiling. He felt a long lick at his chin and mouth and pulled back laughing.

“What was that?” he asked, wiping the saliva off on his arm with a grin.

Ludwig considered for a moment. “I guess… it’s to show you like someone. A lot,” he answered quietly. “Like a kiss.”

Gilbert chest tightened. “You… you really know what that means?” he asked tentatively.

Ludwig’s brow furrowed. “What what means?”

“…Well, kissing. Liking someone… um, a lot. Like, a real lot. Stuff like that.”

Ludwig blinked. “It means… that you’re the one who takes care of me. And I take care of you.”

Gilbert found it suddenly difficult to get enough air, like there was a bubble in behind his sternum he couldn’t quite breathe around.

“Yeah,” he finally managed. “Close enough.”

Ludwig was looking candidly into Gilbert’s eyes. The affection there was so open and pure.

Gilbert hesitated a moment. If he’d had any delusions that they could just stay the way they were, getting away with a quick hand job a day, never anything more, nothing too strange or difficult to justify, they were quickly evaporating. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. This was the point of no return, he could tell. He couldn’t keep telling himself that everything was normal and fine and under control if they kept going in this direction.

But he couldn’t deny what was sitting right in front of him. Very slowly, he closed the short distance between their faces and brought their lips together once more.

Ludwig’s eyes fluttered shut as he snorted out a deep sigh. His warm breath filled Gilbert’s mouth, and he could taste the sweetness of wheat on it. The intimacy of it tightened his gut instantaneously.

This kiss was lazier, as they both took their time to nibble on lips and explore the different ways their mouths could fit together. Ludwig’s hands came up to rest on Gilbert’s bare shoulders and were soon venturing tentatively down his chest and abdomen as the bull made small grunts of appreciation.

They broke apart, just a centimeter, and Ludwig asked, in a raw, needy voice Gilbert had never heard before, “Touch me? There?”

Gilbert didn’t need to ask what he meant. When he brought his hand down to the bull’s crotch he could feel he was already firming up, and the thrill of knowing that that was _him_ —that _he_ had caused that—sent a pleasurable jolt through his body.

Soon he had worked Ludwig up to his full length, but it was different this time than any before. The bed made it seem far more sexual an act than it had ever seemed in the cow pen, and with their mouths locked together in a moist embrace it felt heavenly enough to be criminal. With a slight shock Gilbert realized that it was criminal—bestiality—something he’d been vaguely conscious of but had never really brought into focus. With Ludwig’s strong, warm, fur-covered thighs pressing against Gilbert’s he was acutely aware of the difference of their bodies; _unnatural, unnatural, crime against nature_ , part of his mind was hissing. But it was drowned out by the much louder rush of _want_ through his veins. The wrongness of it only made him desperate to hold Ludwig closer.

The bull was panting hotly against his cheek when Gilbert finally felt warm liquid dribbling onto his hand as Ludwig shuddered. The bull’s muscles relaxed, and he lapped it up as usual in lazy, long licks.

The tent in Gilbert’s pants became more prominent as he watched. He was mortified to see a slight wet spot forming at the tip of his erection, and wondered how he could sneak off to the bathroom to deal with it.

But suddenly Ludwig’s fingers landed on the lump in his sweatpants, making him jump.

Ludwig looked up at him curiously. “Are you feeling that way?”

Gilbert thought briefly of answering _what way_ but decided there wasn’t much point in trying to hide it. Red in the face, he strained out, “Uh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

He started to pull away but Ludwig reached out an arm to stop him. “Can I help you, like you help me?” he asked solemnly.

And as much as Gilbert’s brain was screaming at him _you can’t let an Anthro get you off_ , he couldn’t say no to that earnest face and his own terrible need.

“Um, I mean…” he said shakily, shifting so he could lean back against the pillows. “If you’re sure you want to.”

Ludwig nodded fervently and Gilbert let his doubts go. He was too horny to put up much of a fight anyway.

But then Ludwig hesitated, looking down at Gilbert’s crotch. “But how… I can’t do what you do,” he apologized sadly.

Guilt cinched Gilbert’s chest. “Ah, right, um, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s not your fault—I mean, don’t worry. There are…” he gulped, “other ways…”

Ludwig brightened with curiosity.

Gilbert gazed at him, the guilt tightening its vice. “You… really don’t have to, if you don’t want—”

“Don’t you want me to help you?” asked Ludwig with a frown, hurt.

“No of course! I mean yes, yes, I do…” he sighed, trying to push the guilt to the back of his mind. Ludwig did seem to want it. “Okay. Um, so… you can also…” He could feel his palms grow sweaty and wiped them on his pants. “You can use your mouth…?”

Ludwig blinked in confusion. “My mouth?”

Still uncertain, Gilbert nodded, then tugged his pants down over his hips, letting his erection spring free. He sighed in relief and gave it just one quick, sweet tug. “Here, see? You can… put it in your mouth, and… suck on it, lick it…” he mumbled, face growing redder by the second. He didn’t think he’d be able to bear giving any more detail than that.

Ludwig blinked again, staring at the boy’s stiff member. “Okay,” he said simply, and without further warning licked straight up the underside with his rough, wide tongue.

Gilbert gasped, and Ludwig pulled back.

“Sorry!”

“N-no, it’s fine! More than fine—uh, that just—that was good… Keep, going…”

Ludwig leaned back in, an uncertain look on his face. He took another experimental lick at the head, more gently this time, and Gilbert had to grit his teeth to keep silent.

“You look… in pain,” stated Ludwig, worried.

“Mm, no, I’m not… It just, feels good. You know, like when I touch you.”

“Hmm.”

Apparently reassured, Ludwig licked up the side of Gilbert’s cock before tentatively wrapping his lips around it.

The inside of the bull’s mouth was so hot and textured and wonderfully wet Gilbert’s head fell back against the headboard. He quickly lifted it again so he could look down at his shaft disappearing into Ludwig’s mouth, see the adorable expression of concentration on his face.

Ludwig didn’t seem to know what to do, though. Gilbert winced slightly and whispered, “Suck. Nn, use your tongue.”

Ludwig glanced at him before creating a vacuum with his lips, sucking hard, a determined look on his face.

Gilbert’s head banged back against the headboard again. “Fffuck, you don’t need to go so hard…”

Ludwig immediately lessened the suction with an apologetic look and began massaging the underside instead. He seemed to have some innate knowledge about which parts were most sensitive, and he concentrated on working the slit with the tip of his tongue and rubbing the frenulum gently along the broad, sand-paper like surface.

Gilbert sucked in harshly through his teeth at the intense sensation such a simple movement could bring. His toes clenched against the bedspread.

He reached out a tentative hand to Ludwig’s head and threaded his fingers through the bull’s fine blond hairs. They were so soft just after being washed. He pressed down ever so gently, encouraging Ludwig to take more of him into his mouth.

The bull complied with a low hum that sent shivers through Gilbert’s body. He rolled his pelvis, thrusting shallowly, to give Ludwig the idea. With the guidance of Gilbert’s hand, Ludwig started to bob his head, brow furrowed as he focused on the task.

“Look at me,” breathed Gilbert.

Ludwig’s eyes shot up to his face in mild surprise, and stayed there as he continued to work his cock with his mouth.

Gilbert let out a groan at the sight before him. Ludwig’s round blue eyes gazing up at him, his furry ears flicking now and then, the expanse of his muscled back blending into the lustrous coat of his haunches. Gilbert had never had a blow job before—never been touched intimately by anyone but himself—but he thought this had to be so much better than anything he could get from a human, male or female. And it wasn’t even worth trying to compare this overwhelming, all-consuming heat with the work of his own hand.

He smoothed his palm down the back of Ludwig’s head, then up to rub his soft ears, use his solid horns as a grip as he panted, feeling the warmth and pressure rising in his belly.

Ludwig was working in earnest now, taking in as much as he could and still using that torturous tongue to play with the head. The soft sounds he made as he sucked were driving Gilbert mad, his insides singing with pleasure.

The boy clutched at his horns and hair and the blankets beneath him as a high-pitched whine escaped his throat. “Nnn Lud… I—I—think I’m gonna…”

One more flick of Ludwig’s tongue against the underside of the head and he exploded into the bull’s mouth with a choked cry. He nearly doubled over with the intensity of it, cumming into that tight, hot space rather than into his hand or a tissue for the first time ever.

Ludwig spluttered, but kept his mouth on him, eager to slurp up the hot liquid. He lapped up the drips that got away on his chin or ran down Gilbert’s shaft.

Gilbert flopped back against the pillows, gasping for breath and suddenly aware of just how sweaty he was. He looked down to see Ludwig licking his lips and let out a helpless moan.

“Fuck… Lud…” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He felt completely bowled over by the orgasm.

Ludwig looked up at him with a shy smile. “Was it good?”

Gilbert closed his eyes, nodding languidly. “…Yeah. Really. Good.”

He felt the mattress dip and a hot puff of breath on his face as Ludwig collapsed down next to him. The bull’s body was welcomingly warm and solid, the perfect thing to throw his arm around and snuggle close to. He felt so damn tired. And content. There was nothing he needed or wanted; it was the perfect moment.

…

All too soon their weekend alone was over. They’d spent the last day out in the pasture, running and lazing around. Gilbert spoiled Ludwig with so many sugar cubes that the bull was nearly sick and had to chew some ginger root to settle his stomach. He’d been fine in the end, and they curled up together in Gilbert’s bed after repeating their activities from the previous evening.

Everything felt suddenly different when Gilbert’s parents returned. The boy felt their presence to be a more oppressive force than before, though he was certain their behavior hadn’t changed. But he and Ludwig had had a taste of freedom, or something close to it, and that was difficult to forget.

Gilbert could tell Ludwig felt it too. The bull was more restless, more demanding of Gilbert’s attention. Gilbert didn’t mind at all. They got each other off every day, often more than once, either in the privacy of the barn or out in the pasture, behind a clump of bushes.

Seeing Ludwig became not just something Gilbert looked forward to, but something he needed, with every fiber of his being. He realized how lonely his life must look to others; other than his parents, he saw his classmates at school, and not much outside of that. But even those small interactions were feeling more and more burdensome. He was less tolerant than ever of his parents’ drab company, of his schoolmates’ idiotic cliques and fabricated dramas. At least their snide remarks seemed to carry less sting for him now.

No one, no one in the human world, understood him. He’d always been a loner, always told himself he was better off alone. His parents thought him odd for it, and those who had befriended him had grown distant in recent years, like Elizaveta. But now Gilbert realized just how he’d been lying to himself when he’d claimed how much he loved being on his own. Now, he had Ludwig, in a way he’d never known he could.

And Ludwig was so much better than anyone else could ever be.

It was endearing how excited the bull became over new discoveries. Every new book, every new picture, every new gadget Gilbert could swipe from the house, had him in awe. Gilbert was coming to see the familiar world around him with fresh eyes.

He learned from Ludwig as well. He realized that the bull’s confined world was only as small as his mind made it, and soon came to appreciate how much Ludwig saw all around him. Ludwig described the patterns of bee pollination he’d observed, told him about the distinct personalities of each member of a family of rabbits that had been burrowing under the same tree for generations.

His observations about people were just as astute; he realized the customers who consistently brought coolers for the milk they bought must live farther away than those who didn’t, and he said the woman who came to pick up milk on Fridays was hiding a lot of sadness. Come to think of it Gilbert had heard she was going through a difficult divorce, though he’d never seen it in her face.

Ludwig also said, one day, that Gilbert clearly felt misunderstood by his peers and parents, and that he must be wondering if their relationship was a contributing factor or a result.

Gilbert glanced over at him from where he was sitting in the straw, eyes wide with surprise. Those very thoughts had been churning endlessly through his mind, though he thought he’d been hiding it well.

Gilbert blinked. “Kesese, where’d you get an idea like that? You a mind-reader all of a sudden?”

Ludwig looked startled. “I thought you said those didn’t exist.”

“Pfft, yeah, it’s called a joke. You still have trouble with those, don’tcha.”

Ludwig looked slightly put out. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

“C’mon Lud, no pouting. Pouting is for sore losers.”

“But you pout all the time.”

Gilbert made an undignified noise. “I do not! Watch your tongue, you little upstart. I’m way too awesome to pout.”

Ludwig’s lips twitched into a smile at that. At least sometimes, he got when Gilbert was pulling his leg.

The smile fell from the bull’s face. “But you do think about it don’t you? You wonder if… something’s wrong with you?”

Gilbert leaned back against the barn wall, carefully avoiding eye contact. “Why the hell would there be something wrong with me?”

“…I wonder, sometimes.”

Gilbert’s head snapped around to look at the bull. “What, if I’m a freak? Sheesh, thanks.”

“No, if… I am,” mumbled Ludwig.

Gilbert blinked. “…Oh.” He’d never even thought of that before. But he supposed it must be just as uncommon for Anthros to have feelings for people as for people to have feelings for Anthros.

He looked down at his feet. “Oh,” he repeated. He made an attempt at a light laugh and glanced up at Ludwig. “Well, we could always run away and join the circus together.”

Ludwig just looked more confused at that.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Freak show, get it?” He sighed. “Whatever. What does it matter. We can be freaks together.”

Ludwig didn’t’ answer.

Gilbert looked at him, and saw the bull was chewing his lip worriedly, eyes downcast.

“What’s eatin’ ya?”

Ludwig frowned. “The heifers… I never… I was always shy around them, so it’s not as if it’s so different… but I feel like they’ve noticed. They give me weird looks. Some of them used to like me, but they all avoid me now.”

Gilbert swallowed. “Well… hey, not as if you need those girly cows anyways, right?” He laughed half-heartedly, but the look of helplessness that Ludwig shot his way stopped it in his throat. “…Sorry.” Gilbert didn’t know what else he could say.

“You’re… you’re not going to leave me, are you?” The whisper was so soft Gilbert almost thought he had imagined it.

He let out a huff of laughter. “Leave you? And where would that leave me? C’mon, you think I could do that after… No. No, I won’t leave you.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know where I’m gonna end up, honestly. Ma and Pa want me to find a school for agriculture. I dunno though. Whatever it is… I’ll take you with me. I don’t care how complicated or weird it is. We’re staying together.” He gave a nod of finality, as if it were settled business, fingers picking at the straw on the floor.

Doubts quieted for the moment, Ludwig smiled.


End file.
